


Cutler Fija Has A Poor Mastery Of Metalworking, But You Won't Catch Him Letting That Stop Him

by ghostchibi



Series: Lyons Live AU [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Multi, a poor grasp of metalworking by the author, brief graphic depiction of animal violence, this probably isn't how metalworking works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-10 05:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10430664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostchibi/pseuds/ghostchibi
Summary: Cutler has an important project, and a very perceptive eye.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is really self-indulgent, I say about a fic that includes references to near-character death.
> 
> This doesn't necessarily take place in any specific point in the LLAU, although the context in the story would put it some time after Danse returns to the Prydwen and before Blind Betrayal happens. It started as a snippet focusing on Cutler's characterization in the LLAU, but it ended up turning into ship fic. I didn't actually intend for Cutler/Rhys to pop in, but it just sort of did. With eventual added Danse/Rhys too, but there's no overt mention of it here.

"You know what's grand?" Cutler asks, and by this point he knows that Haylen and Rhys are used to his existential crises wrapped up in absurd humor that they won't ask him what is grand. They do, however, look up as he slides into the chair next to Haylen. The mess hall is mercifully low in traffic at the moment; almost everyone has already finished eating. "Not getting enough sleep because the hell gremlins did a tap dance all over your brain."

"You had a nightmare," Rhys translates into the English that normal human beings use. He's getting pretty good at this. "I wondered why you looked like shit."

"Thanks, I think the gremlins stepped all over my eyes a bit too," Cutler replies. Haylen doesn't verbally chastise Rhys anymore when he talks to Cutler like that, but she does give him a look. Cutler isn't sure if it's because she thinks Rhys is being rude, or if she wants him to stop enabling Cutler's weird way of vocalizing his complaints about life. "These aren't bags, they're actually bruises from tiny gremlin feet."

"I thought you only had nightmares when you're asleep on your stomach."

"These gremlins are resistant to gravity."

Rhys snorts in laughter, and Haylen gives Cutler a sympathetic look.

"If they're disrupting your sleep, you should really go see Captain Cade," she says, and Cutler shrugs. He did that already, and while Cade was relatively helpful, it wasn't really effective enough to keep bugging Cade about it. Nightmares, shmightmares, he'll deal with it himself. As long as he isn't waking up his fellow soldiers at two in the morning (which is a thing that did happen from time to time, someone bursting into screams and falling face-first out of bed and onto the floor and needing a bit of help getting back into bed wasn't that uncommon), Cutler considers it a non-issue.

Well. Captain Cade and Danse would probably take issue with that definition of "non-issue." But it's fine.

Cutler rubs his face a bit in an attempt to wake himself up a little better. Today is another day, and not being deployed in the field is no excuse to slack off. He's sure that there's something that needs to be done that requires his full attention.

"Quinlan's got us on a research patrol for today," Haylen says, which is the exact opposite of what Cutler wants to hear this morning.

"Where the fuck are we going this time to fill up his Grognak collection?" he groans. He's mindful not to be too loud with that comment, though.

"Says the person who keeps trying to look for silver spoons for god knows what reason," Rhys replies. He knows exactly what reason Cutler is looking for specifically silver spoons, not that he'll talk about it openly.

"I don't ask other people to find silver spoons for me."

"It's the same damn issue if you keep shoving spoons in your pockets like you need them to survive when there are ferals coming after our asses."

"See, the thing here is that you think me dying from a spoon deficiency is a joke," Cutler says in the most faux-serious voice possible.

Haylen's sigh is probably audible from the airport below.

* * *

There are no ferals running after them this time, and Rhys doesn't make such a fuss when Cutler finds a gold-plated lighter that he eagerly scoops up for himself. The dead mole rat whose mouth he pries it out of doesn't need it anymore, surely, not that he's sure that a living mole rat has need for a lighter in the first place.

"I'm sure Top will be thrilled to know that you're pulling gold out of rats," Rhys says dryly.

"Please clean that off before you put it in your bag," Haylen half-pleads. The lighter itself is covered in mole rat saliva, and is, unarguably, completely gross. Cutler reaches out to jokingly attempt to wipe it on Rhys's power armored shoulder.

"For god's sake, act like a normal human being for once," Rhys snaps as Cutler laughs. "This place is disgusting enough as-is without you wiping mutated animal spit on my armor."

"It's all nasty anyway," Cutler says, but he does reach over to grab a ratty old rag from a nearby counter to clean off the lighter. Or at least, he would have, if not for the the sudden sharp inhale and gurgling that comes from right behind the counter.

The feral ghoul crawls over the counter and doesn't get much further as Rhys puts a laser burn right through its head. The noise has definitely attracted the attention of something else inside the building, though. Probably dormant ferals that have woken up from the commotion.

"Well, shit," Cutler says, and he doesn't get much of a chance to say much else when something wraps around his ankle and yanks.

"Cutler!" Haylen yells as Cutler stumbles. His grip on his rifle slips, and scrambling to juggle it back into the power armor's fingers proves fruitless. Of course a feral comes in from a direction that none of them are looking in for like three seconds.

Except it's not a feral that's got its hand around his ankle. Ferals don't have hands big enough to wrap around power armor legs. As Cutler twists his head to try and see what's got his leg, he catches a glimpse of sickly green and what looks like a hound-ish body.

Mutant hound. But this one is absurdly large; mutant hounds are already rather large, made of whatever the hell made humans into super mutants too, probably, but this one is at least as tall as Cutler's hip, and it's got its jaws locked around his ankle. It yanks, and Cutler loses his balance immediately from the force of the pull. He lands chest-first on the floor (that's probably going to leave some bruising, ouch), and he's about to aim his free leg for a kick when the hound pulls again.

There's a horrible noise of metal dragging across tile, and Cutler's heart feels like it's dropped into his intestines. Metal fingers don't have much purchase against worn tile, much like how bare hands don't have much grip on dirt and loose rock. The vice grip on his ankle doesn't let up as the hound drags him away from Haylen and Rhys, toward the stairwell behind them. He keeps kicking wildly with his free foot, but he can't aim with his head turned toward his horrified squadmates. It's more out of panic than out of trying to actually land a kick on the mutant hound.

Haylen scrambles after him, thrusting her hand out to grab for Cutler's outreached one; her hand closes around three of his fingers as Rhys raises his rifle and fires two shots at the hound. Mercifully, it loses its grip on his leg when it yelps in pain, but elects instead to leap over Cutler's body to make a mad dash at its attacker.

The damn thing is fast as hell. It's on Rhys in a split second, but Rhys is in power armor and he's ready for it, the legs of his frame already locked to keep him from toppling over. Rhys's rifle clatters to the floor as he abandons it in the close quarters he's forced into, and instead grabs the mutant hound's front legs. There's a sickening snapping noise as he pulls the hound's legs apart and out of their sockets, and a pained yelp. He smashes his helmeted head into the hound's muzzle next, and finally with the beast dazed and incapacitated, he's able to throw it off of him. It lands in a heap, unable to use its front legs to stand, and a few well-placed shots from Haylen later the thing is dead.

Cutler stares at its corpse.

"Cutler, up," Rhys says. His hands don't cooperate. Neither do his arms. Or his legs.

"I can't."

"Do you want to get out of your suit?" Haylen asks, but Rhys makes a noise of disapproval.

"If you open it on the floor like that, it might pinch or lock something," he says. "Cutler, you need to get up."

"Can't."

"Shit," Rhys mutters, or something like it, and Cutler feels tugging at his back. "Haylen, don't- no, if you get in front of him and I drop him you're going to get crushed-"

"Move his legs-"

"I got it-"

Rhys's armored foot kicks the back of Cutler's knees, and Cutler would have gone tumbling if Rhys hadn't had both hands grasped around him in an awkward power armor hug. Cutler slides to the floor, this time at least upright somewhat, but at least now it's much easier to stand.

"Lock the legs," Haylen instructs. Cutler does as he's told.

He nearly falls backward out of the power armor as the back opens up to let him out, but Rhys is there to catch him. It's a bit of a rough landing, falling onto power armor, but it's much nicer than eating shit on the tile floor.

"Hate being dragged," Cutler mutters as Rhys lowers him into a sitting position on the floor. "Hate those damn mutants."

"It's dead," Haylen reassures him. "There won't be any in here. They couldn't get past the doors downstairs, remember?"

"That hound probably just followed us in. We would hear Super Mutants if they tailed us," Rhys adds.

Haylen wraps her hands around Cutler's. His veins still feel like they're full of snow, not blood.

"It's alright," Haylen says. "We're here. Nothing's taking you anywhere."

"Yeah, yeah," Cutler breathes, but it takes him a while before his brain properly registers that. Until then, Rhys pulls Cutler against his side in a tight grip.

* * *

"Oh fuck me," Cutler groans, and rubs his face. "The lighter."

Rhys and Haylen give him confused looks, before Haylen's face lights up in understanding.

"Oh no," she says. "Rhys, did you grab it?"

Rhys shakes his head and grumbles something under his breath. It's far too late for them to be running back into the building for anything without being questioned as to why they're holding up the vertibird that's currently in the process of landing, and the lancer is not going to wait for one stupid lighter, gold-plated or not. Cutler frowns; he really had been looking forward to getting the gold plating off and using it for his little project. Maybe it wouldn't have been enough gold, who knows. But at least it would have been something to liven up those silver spoons.

"Everything scavenged is meant to go to Proctor Teagan or Proctor Quinlan anyway," Rhys says irritably. "Keeping scavenged goods is against protocol."

"One lighter isn't that big of a deal," Haylen shoots back.

"All of it adds up," Rhys snaps, and he refuses to look at Haylen or Cutler. "We have a job, and we get paid for it. The Brotherhood is paying us to find this, and stealing from what we find isn't professional in the slightest."

"One goddamn lighter," Haylen mutters under her breath. Cutler shifts uncomfortably between them; he knows they're both in a bad mood now because of his earlier panic.

"Sorry," Cutler says softly. It's not just an apology about bringing up the lighter.

Two hands, one of power armor and one gloved, rest against Cutler's arms for a brief moment before pulling away. The one in power armor lingers for a bit longer before jerking away, as if afraid to have done something wrong.

* * *

His project will work without the gold. Better not to waste it anyway, Cutler thinks, it's better put to use in upgrading someone's rifle. There's a chance he might be able to buy some gold off off of a trader the next time he encounters one, but it's expensive and he's not exactly swimming in caps.

He has enough silver to make it work. All he needs is to finish making the mold, and find a time to stealthily use the grinder on one of the workbenches so that nobody catches him working on his project. Cutler considers his options; he needs something that can hold molten silver without melting or catching on fire, but also won't force him to break the mold to get the contents out. And it can't be porous either, he can't have it leaking out.

God, metalworking is actually kind of complicated. Who would have thought?

"Cutler, focus."

Rhys snaps his fingers in front of Cutler's face, and Cutler grins in knee-jerk response. He has no idea what's going on right now, and Rhys can tell.

"What's the protocol when we encounter Minutemen?" he asks. Rhys is testing him. Is that what that last brief was about? Cutler's mind had effectively broken free of his brain and gone on a leisurely stroll around the Prydwen during the whole thing.

"Smile and wave?" Cutler replies. Haylen actually laughs, although Danse does sigh.

"Keep a respectable distance, but keep them within visual range," Rhys corrects him. "Don't interact unless approached first, and don't engage unless fired upon first."

"So no waving?"

" _Cutler_."

"Okay, okay, no waving, I got it."

Rhys looks like he's about to say something again when Captain Cade approaches.

"Knight Rhys, you enjoy making yourself scarce when I look for you," he says, and Rhys actually looks a bit embarrassed. It's quite a sight, Cutler thinks, to see Rhys's face do that expression.

"I don't intend to, sir."

"Well I hope you haven't intended to miss four of my requests that you come and see me."

"Whatever happened to doctor-patient privacy?" Cutler asks. He's not actually that seriously questioning Captain Cade, but Captain Cade is also one of those people who adheres to rules the way wonderglue does to paper, so it's a bit surprising to see him talk to someone as a patient outside of his office.

"That certainly applies, but if I have to ask a patient in public discreetly to come see me because they keep dodging me privately, I have an obligation to make sure that they aren't actually internally bleeding without noticing."

That's a good enough reason, Cutler supposes.

"I didn't know medical ethics were that bendable," Cutler says.

"Medical ethics are about care, Knight-Commander, and if my patients are dying because I don't speak to them then I would make a poor medical professional."

That also makes a lot of sense. Rhys looks a bit sour to have been called out like this, but he promises that he'll go see Captain Cade that day.

"I'm fine," Rhys says as soon as Danse and Haylen open their mouths and Captain Cade is gone.

"You didn't get a final assessment of your injuries?" Danse asks.

"You aren't okay until you're cleared!" Haylen hisses. Cutler would add his two cents (most likely just "what the fuck, Rhys"), but the dogpile of Danse and Haylen is already enough.

"I feel fine, it's all healed up-"

"Internally?"

"Captain Cade isn't going to stick his hands in my insides to check if-"

"That's not how he tests that and you know that," Haylen snaps. "Rhys, for god's sake, why are you so resistant to people making sure you're not dying?"

Rhys makes a sort of "hrmthmph" noise and refuses to answer.

* * *

> **_I didn't know how much you needed_ **
> 
> **_if there's extra you can keep it_ **

 

Aww, well isn't that sweet.

There's a tiny clear bag full of very lumpy, very crude gold chunks along with the note scrawled on a torn section of paper. Judging by the handwriting, it's probably Rhys's doing. Not that he's going to admit it, since he's also neglected to write his name on the note.

There's... a rather sizable amount in that bag. It's small, and it's not much, but that definitely cost a decent amount of caps to buy. It's also more than enough material for his project. More than enough to make more than Cutler initially intended for his project.

"I gotta make this perfect," he says to himself. Now all he needs is that material for the mold.

* * *

Danse absolutely loves the ring when Cutler presents it to him.

Thanks to the extra gold Rhys bought for him, Cutler had enough to make the waving gold design on the ring. It's not quite perfect, it's a bit wobbly in places, and the wave doesn't quite connect correctly, but it's the best Cutler can do. Danse doesn't seem to care about the design imperfections or the slightly lopsided smoothing; he declares that it's the most amazing thing he's seen in his whole life and kisses Cutler straight on the mouth.

Cutler is left swooning a little after that. Danse slips the ring on his finger (his ring finger, of course) and is delighted to find that it fits perfectly.

"Rhys got the gold for me, actually," Cutler says. It might not be necessary to say, since technically he doesn't know who left that note on his desk. Danse's fingers intertwine with Cutler's.

"That was incredibly kind of him," Danse replies.

"Yeah. I don't think he wanted me to know, though."

"Why not? You're his squadmate and friend."

"I know, I know. I'll have to ask him to find that out, though," Cutler says. "But hey, you enjoy that ring, okay? I love you, Saul. I always will, no matter what."

Cutler pulls the hand with the ring up to his lips and leaves a light kiss on Danse's knuckles.

"I love you too," Danse says. "This is the most amazing gift I've ever gotten."

Something as luxurious as a silver and gold ring might seem like a waste of caps, but Cutler doesn't care. It isn't such a terrible idea to let Danse indulge himself in something nice without thinking about necessity or function. For once, he can just enjoy something for the sake of enjoying it.

"I'll talk to you later," Cutler says. This part of the ship is completely deserted, but he definitely just caught a glance of Rhys walking on the catwalk above them. "I'm gonna go thank Rhys for the help."

"I should too, I suppose," Danse says, and Cutler gives him a peck on the lips. Danse walks away but Cutler lingers in place, waiting for Rhys to come down.

He stands there for a while, and hears no sign of footsteps.

"Rhys, get down here."

There's a bit of a grumble and then the sound of rubber soles on metal that gets softer and then louder as Rhys approaches.

"Thanks for the gold," Cutler says, and Rhys makes a weird face. It's not a weird expression per se, but rather that the specific expression of trying to hide something is one very unfamiliar on Rhy's face.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"I know your handwriting. And why else would you be spying on us?"

Rhys immediately turns red and starts to stammer out a retort before Cutler laughs and waves his hand to quiet Rhys.

"I'm joking, I'm joking. I'd notice if someone was actually spying. Just, y'know, wondering why you were hanging around."

"It wasn't on purpose," Rhys says, although it's still a bit snippy. "I just- I stuck around because I wanted to know if Top liked it or not."

"Of course he liked it. I know him, I'm his boyfriend," Cutler replies; he means it to be light-hearted, but Rhys seems to deflate a bit. "Really, though, thanks for the help. That ring wouldn't have come out so perfect if you didn't get that gold for me."

Curious, Cutler decides to try something. He throws one arm around Rhys's shoulder in a sideways hug; for a moment, Rhys goes tense, before relaxing and leaning in just a little into Cutler's side.

"You can keep the leftover, if there's any left," Rhys says. The leftover gold is actually still quite a lot, more than enough for the detail on another ring. Or maybe something else. And sure, Rhys might have given it to Cutler, but it was paid for with Rhys's caps. The leftover should probably go back to Rhys.

"I'll make something good out of it," Cutler promises. "Maybe not another ring, but there's endless possibilities with metalworking, right? There's always something that someone enjoys. I could make another gift."

"I guess this means you're back to snatching silver spoons again?" Rhys asks with exasperation in his voice.

"Nah. This time I think I might go more practical. Some people like pretty and practical things, right? Like silver spoons, except maybe instead of fancy spoons, I'm thinking maybe something with more battle use."

"I can't wait to see what you've come up with," Rhys answers in a deadpan monotone. Cutler grins.


End file.
